Sherlock's Mind Palace
by Grizziesmom
Summary: A series of drabbles/recaps from Sherlock's POV about John. These are not in any particular order, just bits as my muse, DocWatson throws them at me...Sorry...Rated T, for now...
1. A Simple Touch

The touches had started small. Just a brush of his hand here; a tap of his finger there. But just before my unfortunate need to jump from the roof of St. Bart's, his hand would linger on my shoulder or hand while he explained what he needed or wanted. His caresses had eventually become a way to bring me back to earth and focus on him when my head went in fifteen directions at once.

There had been so many times I had wanted a blasted cigarette, or more. When Irene had been murdered (well enough to convince me at the time), I had wanted to find a way not to think, not to mourn. John would touch my hand or arm and pull me back. He had done it so many countless other times until I needed to jump to save him. And it wasn't until that moment in time, as I spoke with him on my mobile, begging him to understand with words I coul not say...he had become my lightning rod, my nicotine patch, my mind palace.


	2. Confession & Realizations

John's eyes are sad when I wake. He knows I have to leave today. I know he wants to go with me, but I cannot let him put himself in that kind of danger for me ever again. I know he would (and has) in a heartbeat, but I cannot allow it now. I know he can take care of himself, but now that I have admitted to myself that I love him, I cannot allow him to put himself in harm's way.

I see the tear slipping down his face and reach out to catch it with my forefinger before it can drop onto the pillow.

"I love you, John," I whisper.

John smirks at that. It is not an unkind grimace, but an expression that says, _'I know.'_ And I know he has known for a while. Probably longer than I knew, and I knew almost certainly after only a few days of knowing him. He is a lot smarter than I ever gave him credit for, my John. Well, no. That is not completely true. I knew soon after meeting him that he was smart. He was a doctor, after all. But the intelligence of a seasoned doctor is not always compatible with me…or my habits. But John always has known when to push me and when to let me be. He has always instinctively known when to let me lead and most of all, he's always known when to call me out on something inappropriate. I love him for that.

I love that he never asked, beyond that first night, about my relationship status. He deduced quickly that I am gay. He did not judge. He just worked it out. At first, I think it made him uncomfortable. At first, I think he was truly waiting for me to force myself on him. There were so many times I came so close to doing so; so many times I got so close to him I could feel his breath on my face. There really was not a day from the moment I realized he had saved me from the taxi driver that I did not want to grab him and kiss him. But I never did. I waited, rather patiently for me, I must say, until he came to me.


	3. A Simple Kiss

I never really expected him to come to me. I was content with adoring him as long as he was near me. I was a right jealous git when he brought a girl around to prove to the world and to me that he was a straight male. I had never doubted he was anything but a hetero male once he told me he was. Alright, that is not quite true. There was the time that we giggled in Buckingham Palace because he asked if I was wearing pants. It was obvious that I was not from the unencumbered tent in front of me. Anyone who sat as close as he had could tell. And he had sat very close and had made it very obvious he was looking.

But last night, he had come to my bed. I had asked him if he was drunk, because I know he would never come to my bed sober. But he was. And he had.

"I plan on shagging you, Sherlock," he had said, putting a hand on my face.

I was stunned into silence. What does one say to the man one loves when one never expected to hear those words from him? My rather dull response was too simple.

"Alright."

When he kissed me, I felt my heart jump through my chest. I had kissed other men before. But none of them had captured my heart like John Watson had. I tingled from his touch. I thrilled at his lips on mine. His hand slid down my side and wrapped around my back. It was only then that I realized he was naked, as I was. So much for my being hyper-observant! When I felt his bare skin against mine, I could not contain the groan in my throat.

"Oh, John," I had whispered.

He had pulled me tighter, making me even more aware how hard we both were at the contact. He thrust his lower body into mine and the touch of our cocks against each other almost made me orgasm. I felt the whimper escape my throat and was strangely unembarrassed by it.

In my limited and brief encounters with my former lovers, I had always been the one to elicit the odd vocalizations from them. I had always been the silent one. Contrary to my brother's taunts, I was not by any means a virgin and had not been for quite a long time. I had been both top and bottom to some of Britain's most elite. Before my brother had intervened, I was what one would call a right whore. I made men believe I was a prostitute, just for kicks. I had often bought the drugs I had used with my body. None of it had given me the thrill that John's body and hands touching me at that moment did.


	4. Moriarty's Game

**OK...DocWatson felt this was a good way to re-start my writing since he's been away the last few days. Yes, it's pretty much a recap of the end of The Great Game, but I have yet to see anything that might be from Sherlock's point of view...So here it is!**

* * *

When I saw him in the pool, my heart stopped. I would never admit it to anyone, but I was at a loss. I knew, deep down that John could not be the bomber, but to hear his words, to see him seem so angry, frightened me more than a little bit.

"Evening," he'd said so coldly, "This is a turn up, isn't it, Sherlock?"

"John?" I asked, frozen in more ways than one, "What the hell…"

"Bet you never saw this coming," he said robotically.

I stepped closer, feeling so completely betrayed by the one person I thought I could trust. When he took his hands out of his pockets and opened up the coat he was wearing, I started to breathe again. He was not the bomber. The laser site in the middle of his chest stopped my breathing again.

"What would you like me to have him say next?" John said as I recognized the fear that I had thought was anger in his eyes, "Gottle of geer…gottle of geer, gottle…"

"Stop it." I ordered. John was ready to break down. The fear was becoming overwhelming for both of us, though, again, I would never ever admit it to anyone, least of all John in this situation. I could hear in his voice how truly terrified he was.

"Nice touch this," John said, "the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson, too…Stop his heart."

"Who are you?" I demanded, looking around the pool for the bastard that had put John in this situation.

"I gave you my number," I heard the whiny voice come from across the pool; "I thought you might call." As he walked out of the storage area, he asked, "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"

I pulled the gun from my back pocket, pointed it at him and said, "Both."

"Jim Moriarty," he said bluntly, and then in the whiny voice again said, "Hi!"

I looked at him again.

"Jim? Jim from the hospital?" he asked as he walked closer to the side of the pool. I steadied my hand on the Browning. "Oh? Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then I supposed that rather was the point."

I saw the rifle laser wobble on John's chest and glanced at him, trying to get a feeling for how he was doing. Jim interrupted.

"Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle," he said seriously, "I don't like getting my hands dirty."

As we bantered back and forth about who he was and what he did, I could not keep my eyes from drifting to John. He looked about ready to pass out. I needed to end this one way or the other. I needed to help John. I have never felt the need so desperately as I did in that moment.

When I told him that people have died, I watched John flinch as Jim screamed, "That's what people do!"

My John. His nerves of steel were shattered, I could see that. Mine were not much better at the moment.

"I will stop you," I promised.

"No you won't," Jim replied smugly.

I looked fully at John and asked, "You alright?"

John wouldn't even look at me, let alone respond.

Jim stepped up to him and said in his ear, "You can talk, Johnny boy. Go ahead."

John simply nodded. I offered Jim the memory stick.

"Take it," I growled. If it meant he would leave John alone…leave John out of this, I would give him anything he wanted. And damn him, he knew it! When he threw the memory stick in the water, I was not really surprised. What did surprise me was John trying to save my life by jumping on Moriarty's back.

"Sherlock, run!" he yelled, wrapping his arms around Jim's neck. I stepped back from the pair of them, the gun still trained on Moriarty's head.

"Oh ho! Good!" Jim cheered, "Very good!"

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty," John growled, keeping his hold on the man's neck, "then we both go up."

I was at a loss. John, once again, would put himself in danger, would sacrifice his safety for me. How could it be that I had not seen until then that he cared…perhaps even loved me?

"Isn't he sweet?" Moriarty said, "I can see why you like having him around, but then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They're so touching and loyal," he continued, turning to face John briefly, "but…oops!"

I saw John's face change more than anything. The laser site had disappeared from John. I assumed, rightly, that it was now on me.

"You've rather shown your hand there, Dr. Watson," Moriarty gloated, "Gotcha."

John released him and stepped away. The laser site reappeared on John's chest.

I could not focus on Moriarty. I tried to convey my appreciation to John for his attempted help, but I could not say all that I felt or wanted to say.

"Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"

"Oh let me guess. I get killed."

"Kill you? No, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm going to kill you anyway, someday. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no. If you don't stop prying…I'll burn you. I'll burn the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Though I knew as I said it that it was a lie. Moriarty did, too. John was my heart.

"But we both know that's not quite true."

I did my best to not glance at John. I had already put him in enough danger by being affected by this game.

"Well, I'd better be off," Jim said, looking about, "So nice to have had a proper chat."

"What if I was to shoot you now, right now?"

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face," he mugged said look, "Because I'd be surprised, Sherlock. I really would. And just a teensy bit disappointed…And of course, you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."

"Catch…you…later," I said, stepping closer to John and watching Moriarty walk through the door.

"No you won't," he replied in that annoying sing-song voice.

As soon as the door closed and the sniper points went out, I dropped the gun on the floor and tried to rip the jacket and vest off John.

"All right? You alright?!" I asked. I couldn't breathe knowing that he had been in danger this whole time.

"Yeah, yeah," he said as I pulled the jacket and vest off one arm, "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. Sherlock! Sherlock!"

I got the blasted contraption off him and threw it across the room. He stood there, breathing heavily, like he had not dared to breathe the wrong way during the entire confrontation. I ran to the door to check. I knew Moriarty would be gone, but I had to be sure. I walked back in and John was leaning against the post to one of the changing areas, nearly on the floor. He obviously was not as alright as he had said he was.

"Are you okay?" he asked as I paced back and forth. I wanted to go to him, hold him. But I knew I had no right.

"Me? Yeah, fine, fine, fine," I replied. I could barely look at him. My emotions were out of control. I could not focus as I usually do, "That, uh, thing that you…uh…thing that you did, that you offered to do that was, um…good."

I felt like a blathering idiot. Even knowing what he had done, I could not even just say the words that should have been said in that moment. I wanted to tell him I loved him for what he had done, but I could not even tell him thank you properly, let alone get the other three words out. I could not even look at him for want of holding him.

"I'm glad no one saw that," John said seriously.

"Hmmm?" I had heard, but was not sure what he meant. My mind was not functioning quite yet.

"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk," he said.

"People do little else," I replied, coming down off my adrenaline high. I caught his eye and could not help but smile. He snorted and chuckled at the unintended cheekiness. As he started to get up, though, all laughter was gone again. The sniper's laser point was on his chest. I looked down and saw a couple on my chest as well.

"Sorry boys!" Jim yelled as he came back in from a different exit, "I'm so…changeable! It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness! You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you," Jim continued, "but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

I looked down at John. He looked up at me. I was lost in his eyes. The fear and sorrow were back, as if it had been his fault all along. I knew the fault was mine. I had angered Moriarty for some reason and John was caught in the crossfire, quite literally. I saw no way out of the situation we were in. But I had to try. I asked the question of him without a word. He nodded slightly.

"Probably, my answer has crossed yours," I said as I turned and raised the gun.

I could feel the heat of the laser on my neck, but I remained focused as I lowered the gun to the bomb pack lying between us. Jim stood there, a smirk on his face. I think he was sure I would not pull the trigger. But I was positive I would. I would rather die, have John die, before this bastard could torture us any more.

When his phone started playing a song I vaguely recollected, I think he was stunned more than anything. Criminal Mastermind caught with his pants down, so to speak. He looked ashamed that he had to take the call. I actually wanted to laugh.

"Do you mind if I get that?"

"Go ahead, please. You've got the rest of your life."

He pulled the phone from his pocket and answered. I was a little surprised that he acted so contrite when whoever was on the other end of the line started talking. He mouthed _'Sorry'_ to me and I could not help but respond with, _'It's fine.'_ When he yelled, I saw John jump again. This was getting ridiculous.

He told the person on the phone to wait and then stepped toward the bomb pack, his head down.

"Sorry," he said contritely, "Wrong day to die."

"No," I said. I was willing to die if it meant ending this bastard, "Did you get a better offer?"

"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock," he said as he turned away and headed out the door that he had originally entered from. As he walked out, he snapped and all the laser points disappeared.

"What happened there?" John asked, shell-shocked.

"Someone changed his mind," I said, looking down at him. My curiosity peaked at that thought. "The question is, who?"

John sighed and stood up.

"Well, I for one am for getting out of here before that bastard and his snipers come back," John growled.

I nodded and we headed out the door as quickly as possible, both of us watching for an untoward movement that might represent Moriarty's return, though I knew he was gone.

Our cab ride home was quiet. We were both in our own worlds, I know. I figured John was trying to process what had happened and what he was going to do about it. I focused on Moriarty, because to focus on John would mean me saying something I could not take back.

As soon as we entered 221B, John sighed again.

"I'm off to take a shower and bed," he said, "I've had enough for one day."

"John," I said, trying to put my feelings into words that would not cause issue.

"Sherlock," he said, looking directly at me, "not tonight."

"But-"

"Sherlock," he said more strongly, "No…Not tonight."

With that, he turned and left the room. Everything either of us had to say to be buried once again. I went to my chair and tried to find a spot in my mind palace for everything that had happened. It wasn't over. I knew that. John knew that. It was only the beginning of Moriarty's game.

* * *

_Yeah, we all know what comes after! Like I've said in the first chapter/description, there is no particular order, so don't be surprised if DocWatson decides to jump back in time with Sherlock's thoughts! Anyway, you all know the drill! Hope y'all had a Happy Christmas! I did. Doc came back to play!_


	5. The Failed Date at the Circus

**A new chapter from Sherlock's point of view...Enjoy!**

* * *

"I need to get some air," I said as John walked in the room. We'd been working on this case for endless hours. I was starting to see books when I closed my eyes. My mind palace was so cluttered with useless information, I could not even concentrate.

"Actually, I've got a date," John had said with a dopey grin on his face.

"What?!" That woke me up. John's dating life had begun to dwindle in the past week or so, to my joy. I thought he had become more interested in what we were doing than trying to get off with a woman.

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun?" he said sarcastically

"That's what I was suggesting…" I told him. It was, in a way, though not in the way he was thinking.

"No it wasn't…at least, I hope not…"

"Where are you taking her?" I asked, trying to be casual.

"Ah, cinema," he replied.

"Dull. Boring. Predictable," I said, giving him a slight smile, "Why don't you try this? In London for one night only."

"Thanks. But I don't come to you for dating advice," he said with a chuckle. But I knew he would go. And he did. I waited half an hour for him to call and make the reservation before I called back and changed the reservation to three instead of two. I knew he would be irritated, but the reason I had picked that particular entertainment was so I could investigate.

Once we had returned from the circus, I was more than slightly distressed that his new love interest, Sarah had followed us home. She had followed us to the Yard whilst I spoke with Detective Inspector Dimmock. I had thought perhaps she would just leave, go to her own home, but I was sadly disappointed in that hope.

I have to give her credit for attempting to leave, but John invited her to stay. When I told her that would be better she left, John told her I was kidding. While John gadded about in the kitchen for some sort of tea, Sarah hung about asking questions, trying to be nice. I do not do nice. Especially to women John is interested in.

I understand that she is the one who saw that Soo Lin had started translating the text on the wall, but that did not mean I had to like her. However, I really wished I had made them head out with me to the museum, because when I returned to the flat to find them missing, I knew what had happened. I never even assumed that they might have gone back to her place. John would have texted or at least left a note. He had become very conscientious about that.

When I reached the old underground section, I realised that the thought of physically losing him had never occurred to me. I knew we had been in tight situations before. I knew we had been in what others would call dangerous situations since we had met only weeks before. But with John, I had no fear.

I believed he also had no fear up until the moment I saw him tied to the chair in the old underground tunnel. When I heard him vehemently denying that he was me and the woman refused to believe him, I almost panicked. Almost. I distracted the woman by asking John how he would describe me. When he said "Late," I had to stuff my hand in my mouth to stifle the giggle. John was more like me than I thought. Apparently my appearance helped calm his fear as well.

The fact that Sarah was also tied to a chair and in a much more precarious position what with having an ancient Chinese cross-bow pointed directly at her didn't faze me nearly as much as it should have. It was not that I was not concerned. It was more a case of I just really did not care. And honestly, if I had not heard the fear and panic in John's voice, I probably would have gotten him free first. But I knew without his telling me that it was far more important to John that she be safe. So, after a bit of an argument and tussle with a Chinese national and a long swath of silk, I was able to get her free. It was John who actually saved the day…saved her...

I forced myself to untie the knots on Sarah's wrists and tried to calm her a bit before I went to John. I was trying desperately trying to calm my own nerves. It had been close. John had not really been in as much danger as I had ended up in fighting Zhi Zhu, but I would have happily killed a man to save John Watson's life. I thought I had realized that previously, but until that moment that I caught his eye, I guess it had never sunk in. I think that was when I knew I was falling in love with him.

* * *

_I am finding that this Sherlock is much more emotional than he lets on...True to cannon or no? What do you think?_


End file.
